


If You See Something, Say Nothing

by h_d



Category: Whyborne and Griffin - Jordan L. Hawk
Genre: Ableist Language, Bullying, Canon Compliant, Gen, M/M, POV Outsider, Period-Typical Homophobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-01
Updated: 2016-12-01
Packaged: 2018-09-03 11:52:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8712676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/h_d/pseuds/h_d
Summary: Detective Tilton understands how Widdershins works, even if Stanford Whyborne doesn't.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This story takes place during Bloodline, and the title comes from Welcome to Night Vale.

"My father pays your salary, you useless parasite! No, I don't want to make an appointment," a voice boomed from the front desk. "Are you stupid or just deaf? I want to speak to a detective, and I want to do it _now_."

Detective Tilton knew that voice. Stanford Whyborne, heir to the Whyborne railroad fortune, brother of a sorcerer, and enough of an irredeemable drunk to have spent several nights in jail for causing disturbances at local taverns. He was also known for mistreating working ladies, although none of them had ever pressed charges against him. The man was a bully of the worst kind.

Tilton sighed and put down the report he'd been reading. He knew it was dangerous in New York, Boston, and Chicago, not only for criminals and police officers, but also for ordinary civilians. The police in those cities had to deal with rival gangs fighting constant battles against one another. Some days, though, gang warfare sounded positively relaxing, compared to the rival cults and rival supernatural entities who battled it out in Widdershins. 

He shook his head, stood up, and moved to the front desk. The young patrolman on duty, Brown, turned to give him a grateful smile.

"How can I help you, Mr. Whyborne?" Tilton asked.

"Finally," Stanford said. "I need to report a crime." His eyes, always a bit small in his fat face, shone today with an unholy zeal that made the small hairs on the back of Tilton's neck stand up. 

"Please come right this way, sir," Tilton said, leading Stanford to an interrogation room. 

Tilton really didn't want to be alone with Stanford, especially not with that mad light gleaming in his eyes, but he had learned early in his career that when the old families were involved, it was always best to use discretion.

Once they were seated Tilton pulled his notepad from his coat pocket. "Have you had something stolen?" 

Stanford scowled. "Yes. You might say that."

A thief who wasn't afraid to prey on Widdershins' most powerful families? That prospect frightened Tilton even more than the old families themselves did. Still, maybe the thief was new in town, someone who would only expect ordinary consequences for trespassing against the Whyborne family. 

Tilton cleared his throat, poising his pencil over his notepad. "What was stolen?"

Stanford huffed angrily. "Are you as stupid as the boy out front? No, that's not the report I want to make."

On the contrary, Brown was quite a capable patrolman, competent, intelligent, and good in a fight. And he was always polite, no matter the circumstances, which was a key survival skill when dealing with Widdershins' most important (and self-important) citizens.

Tilton longed to chastise Stanford for the insult, but what would that achieve? Stanford would only cry to his father, who was certainly powerful enough to make sure Tilton never worked in Widdershins again – at the very least.

Tilton settled for raising his eyebrows at Stanford. He would keep his mouth shut, but surely a mere insolent look wouldn't inspire Stanford to get him fired. 

"My brother Percival and that useless private detective, Griffin Flaherty," Stanford began, then stopped.

Oh, dear God. 

"Yes? Have they been the victims of a crime?" Tilton asked, deciding it was probably best to feign ignorance.

"No, the rest of us are victims of _their_ crimes!" Stanford bellowed. "They're sodomites! It's disgusting. They parade themselves around, in front of my parents and all of Widdershins. They need to be arrested, right now."

Tilton rarely got the chance to do anything with his observations, things being as they were, but he was a fairly good detective. He had noticed quite a lot about Percival Endicott Whyborne. Percival's wealthy origins could not have been more obvious; his clothing was never overly expensive, but it was tidy to the point of fussiness, while his demeanor was icy to the point of rudeness. His relationship with Flaherty was obvious, too; Tilton knew that a man as cold as Percival never looked at anyone but a lover with such affection in his gaze. 

Tilton had thought their relationship was but one item on a long list of things that most residents of Widdershins knew but never acknowledged. The Whyborne patriarch was far too powerful to allow any kind of scandal to attach to his family name. Being rude to Stanford would certainly have gotten Tilton fired, but arresting Percival for sodomy would very likely get him killed.

Trust this buffoon not to know anything about how life worked in the town of his birth, not even how many puppet strings his own father held. 

And even aside from all of that, Tilton had seen the aftermath of Stormhaven's destruction, had heard the eyewitnesses' reports of what had happened there. He had resolved then that he would never even consider arresting Percival under any circumstances. 

Was it possible Stanford didn't know? "I see. And do you know any other secrets about your brother?" Tilton asked. 

Stanford scowled. "Isn't that enough to arrest him? It's against the law!"

"Of course. It's against the law of the land," Tilton said. "But I've seen evidence of power that's against the very laws of nature. I value my life, sir, even if you don't value yours."

Stanford spluttered. "Are you threatening me, you little worm?" 

"Certainly not," Tilton said. "I would never threaten anyone in your brother's family." 

Stanford gaped at him like a fish, clearly speechless. Tilton met his eyes, hoping that he had finally managed to make his point clear. There really was no choice. No ordinary human could fight back against the kind of raw power that Percival commanded and hope to walk away.

Stanford stood and pushed back his chair so roughly that it fell over. Tilton flinched at the noise. "You'll be hearing from my father," Stanford said.

Tilton nodded and watched Stanford storm out. He doubted he'd be hearing from Niles about this at all, unless he did pursue it, in which case either Niles would hire someone to kill him, or Percival would rain sorcerous chaos down on the entire police force. 

Yes, it was far better to ignore such matters.


End file.
